


Falling Leaves

by Suphomie



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Alpha!Theo, Anxiety, Autumn, Dubious Morality, Isolation, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Slow Burn, Small Towns, Stiles centric, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 17:17:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15890514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suphomie/pseuds/Suphomie
Summary: Theo. Stiles has been trying to avoid thinking about him since they left, trying to avoid thinking about how fucking pissed he probably is. They moved in with Theo almost right after Scott decided to join his pack, dragging Stiles in tow. Stiles never trusted him, and as the truth slowly revealed itself he turned out to be mostly spot on with his predictions, but he was afraid of losing Scott so he went along anyways. Things since then have gotten a lot more...complicated.





	1. September

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Long time no see! 
> 
> I know I haven’t written in forever, but some insrpiration has finally struck! As you might be able to tell, this is a slight remake of ‘Burning Bridges’, a now deleted fic that I never made anything of. If you did read it, you’ll see that this is only similar, not the same plot points or anything just similar in concept and obviously this one is in Stiles’ p.o.v.
> 
> Let me know in the comments how you’re liking this and if you’d like future chapters!

Golden rays of the late Summer sun shine through morning clouds and kiss Stiles’ skin as he looks up from his position against his jeep. He almost puts a hand up to shield his eyes but decides against it, keeping his arms crossed to his chest, as a cool breeze brushes past him. Instead he looks from the sky to a thick bed of grass a few feet from him. It looks like it hasn’t been touched by anything other than bugs and animals in years. In fact, most of this place looks like that.

Stiles peaks a glance back at the old, rundown gas station. Sunlight reflects back at him off the silver, rusted gas pumps. Stiles shifts a bit anxiously as he waits, uncrossing his arms and recrossing them a second later. As much as he hates to admit it, Stiles is a creature of habit. He’s used to the grimy sidewalks and hoards of people in the city he’s lived in all his life. He’s used to the constant noise of cars speeding down the street and strangers chatter that you’d only pick up bits and pieces of. But here, it’s just so _empty_. The crude, pothole ridden street behind him is completely barren and all that can be heard is the hum of bugs and the pitter patter of tiny feet scurrying around the grass deep into the trees on the other side of him. It’s unsettling.

It’s leaving Stiles with nothing to distract himself from his thoughts, which isn’t a good thing. What’s to stop him from thinking of- no, he definitely should avoid thinking about that. Luckily he doesn’t have to worry himself much longer as the gas station door opens and Scott finally reappears, paper bag in his hands. Stiles takes a breath of relief, uncrossing his arms again and opening the passanger seat door.

“Here,” Scott says, handing Stiles a bottle of gatorade from his bag, unsurprising bright smile on his face. Only Scott McCall could be so positive after being stuck in a car for 10 hours straight. Stiles has always kind of envied him for that. He takes the bottle, flashing Scott a weak smile in return, and climbs into the car, which has definitely seen better days. Scott gets into the drivers seat a moment after him, dropping the bag into the back, stacked along with the rest of their packed bags shoved into the backseats, before starting the car up again.

Stiles watches trees zoom by as they drive further into the countryside. Further away from civilization. Stiles glances back at Scott, who’s steadily driving. He looks back and flashes another smile. “Hey,” he says softly, looking back at the open road, “Are you... you’ve been quiet.” 

Stiles turns his gaze back to the window. “I’m fine.” He lies, hoping desperately that Scott ignores the uptick in his heartbeat. “Just tired.”

Scott nods, but glances at Stiles wearily, features tense like he has more to say. Stiles scratches the back of his neck, hoping the subject is dropped. He’s not so lucky. Scott sighs and finally asks what Stiles has been dreading, “You don’t think this was a good idea, do you?”

 _No_. Stiles’ mind instantly supplies. He guesses he has to think about it now, despite how hard he’s been trying not to since they left late last night. More like ran. Stiles was more than a little hesitant four nights ago when Scott suggested the plan of moving their entire lives away from the city they grew up in to some random countryside in another state. Except it would probably be more accurate to say that he wanted to move their entire lives away from Theo.

 _Theo_. Stiles has been trying to avoid thinking about him since they left, trying to avoid thinking about how fucking pissed he probably is. Scott suggested muting his number on their phones, so Stiles can only imagine the amount of texts and calls they’ve recieved from him, because he definitely noticed they’re gone by now. They moved in with Theo almost right after Scott decided to join his pack, dragging Stiles in tow. Stiles never trusted him, and as the truth slowly revealed itself he turned out to be mostly spot on with his predictions, but he was afraid of losing Scott so he went along anyways. Things since then have gotten a lot more... _complicated_.

“It was the right decision.” Stiles says, which isn’t really a lie. Just because it was the right decision doesn’t mean it was a _good_ idea. It certainly doesn’t mean they should have done it.

Scott nods, giving Stiles another quick glance. “It was,” he assures him, “We needed change. To get away.” Stiles can’t help but notice the way Scott dances around directly mentioning Theo, but they both know what they’re really talking about. Scott didn’t exactly agree with Theo’s morals (or lack thereof), despite him trusting him once upon a time. So Stiles really shouldn’t have been surprised by this whole thing. 

Stiles nods weakly in agreement, earning another smile from Scott before turning away again. Stiles lets in a sharp breath and looks back to the window, leaning his head slightly on the cool glass. Scott’s always been painfully optimistic, why should now be any different? But Stiles feels just about as far away as he can from optimistic right now if the knot in his stomach and sweaty palms are anything to go by. He wanted to talk Scott out of this, he really did, but Scott didn’t seem very up for convincing. Honestly, Stiles was a little afraid that if he tried Scott would just leave without him. Doesn’t matter, Stiles supposes. He would do just about anything for Scott, that includes packing up everything he’s ever owned and moving hundreds of miles to some house in a backwater little town just to get away from a certain alpha.

Stiles tries to remind himself that this _is_ the right decision, despite how wrong it all feels. He just keeps repeating that over and over again in his head. He takes a deep breath and lets his eyes fall shut

 

The road gets somehow bumpier as they approach the house, turning from crude asphalt to rock-littered dirt. After a few yards the actual house appears, standing tall in an overgrown field of grass, surrounded on all sides by towering trees. Stiles spares a glance at Scott as they pull up, but his face is inexpressive. As they come to a stop he finally looks over, flashing Stiles another smile. “This is it,” he clarifies, looking over the house as he pulls the keys from the ignition, leaving everything quiet. Too fucking quiet. “C’mon, let’s look inside,” he adds as he steps out of the jeep.

Stiles follows wearily after him, feet hitting the rocky path beneath him. He looks at the house more carefully now that they’re closer, noting it’s worn, decrepit appearance. Still, it stands tall at two stories, rickety porch wrapped around the front, surrounded by what seems like miles of nothing but trees and weeds.

Stiles swallows and glances back at Scott as he pulls a small, golden key from his pocket. Stiles didn’t get much of a say in the house buying process, but apparently Scott got a good deal for this one. Looking at the property up close, Stiles can see why. Scott seems weirdly unbothered, though, by its appearance, which cements in Stiles’ mind that they moved here to get as far away from Theo as possible and for that reason alone.

Scott gets the door open as Stiles steps up the porch stairs, the unstable wood buckling with each ounce of weight. It makes Stiles wonder how long it’s been since anyone has been _here_ , in this house. The front door swings open with an eery creak, drawing his attention away from the steps. Stiles watches Scott step inside before following, taking in a hesitant breath as he does.

The first thing Stiles notices is dust floating around the darkened front room, illuminated by only a golden hue from the sun creeping in through the tall, grime-covered windows. Stiles looks around carefully, making note of everything in the room including old, wooden floors and a tall staircase leading to the second floor. Through one of the archways Stiles can see what appears to be a livingroom, though it’s hard to tell with what little furniture it has being covered by white sheets.

Stiles turns to Scott, shooting him an unimpressed look. Scott looks back at him with a strained, half-smile. “I know,” he says, looking around the room again, “It’s not perfect. _But_ , it’s not that bad,” he says, sounding a little hopeful, “This place can be our fresh start. We can just forget everything that happened before.”

Stiles sighs, reaching a hand up to scratch the back of his neck as he glances around again. The way Scott says _we_ like that gets him every time. “You better be right about this,” he concedes with a huffed, soundless laugh, trying his best to be positive for Scott as he flashes a hesitant smile. He quickly reminds himself that this _was_ the right thing to do, that they _had_ to do this. He earns yet another bright smile from Scott, which makes him feel momentarily more confident in the thought, but he knows it’s a fleeting feeling.

“I am,” Scott says, a little pride obvious in his voice now that he got Stiles more on board. He takes a final look around before clapping his hands together and saying, “We should start unpacking.”

Stiles nods in agreement and follows him back outside, grabbing a couple of boxes from the backseat and heading back inside. As he places them onto the livingroom floor he looks around, finally getting a better look at the room. All he sees is an old, ripped up wallpaper, covered in dust and darkened from age and sheet-covered furniture. He walks over to what looks like an outline of a couch under a particuarly stained sheet and tugs hard on the fabric. A thick cloud of dust appears as soon as he does it, making him cough and cover his mouth with the back of his hand, using his other hand to swat the particles away. Once it’s clear enough to see, an aged, torn up couch is revealed underneath.

He moves from the livingroom to the kitchen, floor creaking as he does. The walls are white panels, with little cracks in the paint. There’s a wooden table in the center of the floor, the same wooden flooring as the rest of the house. The room is considerably brighter than the rest of the house, with tall windows and a screen door to the back porch. Stiles quickly opts for that, ignoring the rest of the kitchen and moving to the porch overlooking the rest of the property.

He doesn’t see much of anything outside, just trees, endless, hilly fields and an old building in the near distance that looks like an abandoned barn. Besides that, though, there’s nothing. Not a single sign of civilization besides the house and barn. 

Stiles takes in a breath and just stares at the house for a moment while he leans against the unstable porch railings. Well if Scott wanted a change he certainly found it, this place is the polar opposite of their apartment. Well, old apartment now. As much as Stiles was hesitant to move in with Theo at first, he definitely became attached to the place over the year and a half they lived there. It was full of leather furniture and it was in the center of a large, crowded city. So _this_? The middle of the countryside, miles away from anything? It’s a huge fucking change.

Stiles sighs and rubs his eyes with his hand. He can’t believe he let Scott talk him into this. Well, actually, he can believe it, he’s let Scott talk him into plenty, but he can’t believe they actually did it. He knows it was the right decision, he _knows_ that. But that doesn’t mean a fresh start is going to be at all easy. Stiles takes in a deep breath and just tries to remind himself that he’s doing this for Scott, he has to try to make this work.

After taking another moment of standing on the quiet porch, taking in the fresh air, Stiles heads back inside. He moves through the house back into the front room, but stops in his tracks when he notices something odd from out the window. There’s a car parked next to the jeep labeled _Sheriff’s Station_ and two officers standing by it, talking to Scott who’s by their open trunk full of cardboard boxes. Stiles tenses slightly. It’s not like he has a fear of cops or anything, he grew up with one his entire life. It’s just that after the list of things he’s done since he’s met Theo, he’s become a little weary.

That, and also the whole scene kind of makes him think of his dad. It throws him off slightly as suddenly all he can think about is being in an empty hospital waiting room, alone, staring at a wall as his hands clasp together so hard his nails pierce his skin.

He quickly pushes that memory away, because he definitely doesn’t need to drudge _that_ up right now, and moves through the open screen door leading to the front porch. “... just came to welcome you two to town. We don’t get new people very often.” Stiles overhears the younger of the two say. The younger officer has dirty blond hair and bright green eyes while the slightly older one has dark, black hair and beard, with an entirely unamused expression on his face, Stiles notices as he approaches wearily. Almost the second he reaches the stairs, arms crossed over his chest, the younger one notices him and smiles brightly, putting up a hand in a friendly wave as he says, “Hi there. I’m deputy Parrish, this is deputy Hale,” he gestures to the older officer, Hale, who’s face remains stoic.

All Stiles offers in return is a half wave and a simple, “Stiles.” 

Parrish’s overly friendly smile doesn’t diminish in the slightest as he turns back to Scott and says, “It’s great to meet you both. We can help move in some of these boxes, if you want.”

“That’d be great, thank you,” Scott replies, rivaling Parrish’s smile with his own.

Stiles uncrosses his arms and begins to walk over as the two cops grab a big box each and make their way inside. Stiles shoots Scott a look when they disappear inside, saying, “What was that?”

Scott looks back at him, grabbing a box of his own. “What? They’re just helping with boxes, they won’t be here long. They seem nice.”

Stiles swallows and glances back at the house warily. “Yeah, a little _too_ nice.” He comments. There’s something almost phony about Parrish, but it’s hard to put a finger on.

Scott sighs, fixing Stiles with a familar look. “Can you just try to be a little bit more trusting, Stiles?” He says, which he’s probably said about a thousand times. Scott’s always been overly trusting to strangers, even when they were kids. Isn’t that how they got mixed up with Theo in the first place? But Stiles, he’s always been a little bit more cautious, although Scott would probably say paranoid. Well, hey, he ended up being right about Theo, so it’s not _just_ paranoia. 

That all being said, he really wants to try out this fresh start thing, for Scott’s sake at least. So he sighs and lets his face soften slightly as he looks at Scott. “Okay.” He offers. Scott must know the concession he just got because he smiles approvingly again.

“Thank you.” He says as he grabs another box. He squeezes Stiles’ shoulder gently as he goes back into the house, shooting him one more grateful look. Stiles swallows thickly at the touch, feelings flooding his body all at once. He shakes it off with an unsettled sigh, because out of all the things he doesn’t need right now, those feelings coming back is the bottom of the fucking list.

He grabs his bag crudely stuffed with all the clothes he could carry and another small box before making his way back inside. The livingroom is empty as he tosses his bag onto the couch. Just as he turns around to find a place for the box he jumps at the sight of Hale standing in the doorway, box in hands.

“Sorry,” the deputy says emotionlessly, walking across the room to place the box down on top of some others, “didn’t mean to scare you.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything back, just watches the deputy carefully. He’s guessing this little trip was Parrish’s idea, because Hale certainly doesn’t seem very interested in being here. They seem pretty small-town, and Stiles has the sneaking suspcion that Hale doesn’t take too kindly to newcomers. As Stiles places his box onto the floor next to the couch Hale says, “Your friend mentioned you moved here from California.”

Stiles narrows his eyes slightly. “Yeah.”

Hale looks Stiles over. “Awful far place to move to.” He voice is suddenly suspicious and his stare is pointed, like he’s inspecting Stiles.

Stiles crosses his arms over his chest at Hale’s implication. “That’s not a crime, is it?” He bites out. 

Hale continues to stare at him in tense silence and Stiles stands his ground, teeth grit slightly and body stiff. Before the staring match can go on too long, however, Parrish and Scott walk in from the front with bags in their hands. Stiles finally breaks the eye contact, eyes shifting to the floor instead. “Hope you’re not interrogating these boys, Derek,” Parrish jokes, flashing a smile that Hale doesn’t return. The smile doesn’t fall, in fact he only turns to Stiles and gives him this odd little wink that kind of makes his skin crawl. “We’re having a town fair tommorrow,” he continues like it’s nothing, “you boys should come. Meet the locals.”

Stiles is thinking how much that idea sucks when Scott shoots him another small, encouraging smile from across the room that makes his body loosen and his jaw lose some tension. He takes in a breath and reminds himself that he has to make this work. He _has_ to. For Scott.

 

As the sun sinks below the horizon, all left visible is the shadows of trees outside and the flicker of glow from the last of Summer’s fireflies, lighting up the dark night. Stiles turns from the diningroom’s window to the plate of pasta in front of him, then to Scott across from him. He watches as Scott scarfs down his food, not too uncommon a sight. It’s one of those reminders that he’s sitting across from a werewolf. The bite changed a lot about Scott, but Stiles notices the little things just as much as the big things, like how he eats so carnivorously. But somehow under all that, it’s still the Scott he’s always known.

Scott looks up, still chewing slightly as he says, “This is really good.”

The corner of Stiles’ mouth curls up in an amused grin as he twirls a piece of spagetti with his fork. “I just boiled pasta.” 

“Still,” Scott says, shoveling more into his mouth, “I could get used to this. You know, eating something other than chinese takeout and pizza every night.”

Stiles snorts and comments off-handedly, “Yeah, Theo was never exactly a food connoisseur.”

He regrets it the moment it leaves his lips. He can see Scott visibly tense at the name. They’ve been avoiding that name successfully the entire day, avoiding talking about him at all. But Stiles not sure how much longer he can hold out. He lets out a sigh and finally asks, “Are we gonna talk about this at some point or just keep pretending nothing’s wrong?”

Scott sighs as well, body relaxing slightly, but concerned look still on his face. “I just-“ he looks down at the table, “I don’t want to think about him.” He shakes his head, “I want to completely start over and I want to just forget about him.”

Stiles stares at him for a long moment. Sometimes he forgets how incredibly naïve Scott can be. There’s no forgetting Theo. Even if he’s not here, the memories will never actually leave either of them, Stiles is sure of that. At least he’s sure that they’ll never leave _him_.

“We had to leave,” Scott asks, grave look on his face. “He wasn’t a good person. He-“ he shakes his head slightly again, “He manipulated us. Both of us. We couldn’t stay there.”

“Yeah, Scott, I know,” Stiles admits with a sigh. And he _does_ know that. Whaf they had was never something Stiles would consider normal and he knows leaving was the right thing to do. But that doesn’t make this any easier. “It’s just... I don’t know.” He rubs his hands against his forehead. “What happens if he shows up here? What happens if he finds us?”

“He won’t.” Scott says intently, like he’s sure. His face softens a little after a second. “We’re gonna be okay.” He says it like he’s making a promise. “We can make this work.”

 _We_. Fucking gets him everytime. Stiles looks up and says softly, “Yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck and lets out a little breath, “Yeah, we will, Scott. We will.”

Scott nods and smiles, giving Stiles an appreciative look. While he goes back to his food Stiles pokes at his halfheartedly, thinking. He glances back at the window and watches as the last shred of daylight disappear behind endless fields. He doesn’t even know if he’s telling the truth or just telling Scott what he wants to hear at this point. He wants to start over, to forget everything, he does. But he thinks it might be too late for that after all he’s done. He spends the rest of dinner with his mind racing and a full plate in front of him.

 

The ceiling above his new bed is cracked, with chips of white paint completely missing. Stiles sighs and turns to his side, looking at the rest of the room instead. It’s mostly bare, just having an aged, squeaky bed and a tall dresser covered in dust. Stiles glances at the empty side of the queen bed next to him. He sits up abrupty, running a hand through his hair. 

He doesn’t remember the last time he slept alone. He had his own bed back at the apartment, but he sparsely used it, sleeping with Theo most of the time. He doesn’t really know when he went from hating Theo’s guts (Well, he never really stopped hating him, did he?) to being with him. Probably somewhere in between the time Scott left them alone for a week when he visted his mom in SanFrancisco and the time when Stiles was staring down at his own bloody hands with Theo whispering encouraging words into his ear. Like he said, very complicated.

Stiles huffs out a frustrated breath, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to make himself tired. He can’t quite manage, mind too occupied to sleep, though he wishes he could get Theo out of his mind. It’s not like he _misses_ him... not really. It’s just strange not to be around him after so long of constantly being together.

There’s also always this sort of feeling of impending doom everytime the alpha crosses his mind. There’s very little doubt in Stiles’ mind that Theo’s capable of finding them, despite how far they’ve gone. And who’s to say he won’t be knocking on their door tommorrow morning? He’s surely pissed by now, what with them not returning any of the calls or texts that he’s probably made. If Scott’s realized this he hasn’t said, but judging by their tense conversation at dinner and his near-refusal to even say Theo’s name, he’s afraid.

Stiles grabs his phone from the nightstand, forgetting about sleep for now. The bright screen illuminates the bedroom walls in a cold blue color as Stiles scrolls through his contacts until he finds Theo’s. He just stares at it for a moment. He’s not sure why, really, he knows he can’t just call him. But he just can’t get the guy off his fucking mind. He doesn’t even know what the hell he’d do if Theo _did_ show up here.

Stiles doesn’t notice movement in the doorway until he hears a soft knock on the door. He quickly shuts off his phone and tosses it aside as he looks up to see a shadow covered Scott standing on the other side of the ajar door. “Hey.” Scott says, voice sounding tired, wearing an old lacrosse hoodie and sweatpants.

“Hey.” Stiles says back, sitting up slightly straighter.

Scott leans against the wall as he asks, “Do you- uh- mind if I sleep in here tonight? My room kind of gives me the creeps.”

Stiles’ eyebrows raise up a little in surprise, but he quickly responds, “Uh, yeah, sure man,” as he scoots over to the opposite side of the bed, making room for him. He can see Scott smile as he walks inside and climbs into bed next to him.

“Thanks,” he says, pulling the the bed’s thick quilt over him and laying his head down on the pillow. Stiles swallows thickly, blush filling his cheeks as he lays down as well, making sure to keep a small distance between them. 

It’s been a while since they’ve been in this position, but Stiles remembers countless times they’ve slept like this before they moved in with Theo, even a few times after. They mostly stopped doing stuff like this at some point after Stiles started sleeping more and more in Theo’s bed, and eventually it stopped entirely, but things with Scott were complicated far before Theo came into their lives. To say they had an open relationship would be too generous, they’ve always been more of best friends with benefits, never exclusive. Stiles would be lying if he said he never longed for anything more, that’s probably why he’s stuck as long as he has, even enduring Scott’s countless other relationships; in fact, that’s how Theo even came into the picture in the first place. He’s always had this unhealthy weak spot when it came to Scott, still does. Probably always will. Though part of him knows it would never work; Stiles’ has done too much terrible shit to really deserve someone like Scott.

“Stiles,” Scott says, though Stiles can only make out the outline of his face in the dark. Stiles looks at him as he continues, yawning, “I’m really glad you came with me.”

Stiles wonders if Scott realizes what he’s doing to him when he says stuff like that. Probably not, but Stiles still can’t help the flutter of his heart. He smiles softly, saying into the darkness, “Me too.”

He’s not sure whether or not it’s a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you enjoyed! Also please leave me some requests for future chapters! If you read Burning Bridges let me know what you enjoyed in that that I should incorporate, or if you have any thoughts in general please let me know! :)


	2. Daydreamers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave some love/suggestions if you’re digging this series so far!

Fall weather seems to arrive early the following morning as Stiles wakes up to a cold breeze coming in through the open window. His eyes open with a slight groan against the sunlight creeping inside the small bedroom. He remembers waking up multiple times throughout the night, which isn’t exactly rare for him, but this time he had different worries on his mind. As he stretches his tired limbs he turns onto his side and notices the other side of the bed is empty, leaving only wrinkled sheets behind and a distinct lack of werewolf. Stiles is used to waking up alone. Theo usually got up before him to work out early in the morning and Stiles always slept in after long nights of insomnia. There are a few times, though, where he’s woken up with warmth at his back and a strong arm wrapped around his middle. Stiles blinks the sleep from his eyes and sits up, quickly pushing the unwanted memory away.

Stiles stands on shaky, tired legs and walks from the room, floor creaking under his feet as he walks down the narrow, upstairs hallway. The walls are the same cracked, white panelling as the kitchen and there are some old picture frames the last owner left behind still on the wall, bare of any actual pictures and coated in a layer of dust. Above the staircase is another tall window that shows the backyard, view covered mostly by a tall tree close to the house.

Stiles glances into Scott’s room briefly as he walks, but all he sees is an empty bed and another open window. Stiles scratches the back of his head as he remembers last night. As nice as sleeping next to Scott was, it’s also lead to confusing emotions that he hasn’t had in a long time. Although they’re living alone again, things are completely different than they were before. He’s not sure exactly when doing stuff like this together started to feel so wrong, sleeping together, cuddling, kissing, all he knows is that one day it just... stopped. Probably after Theo showed up, bringing the supernatural world along with him, making their lives way messier than it already was.

He swiftly moves on from Scott’s room to the stairs, that buckle and creak under his weight as he descends them. Just as he’s about to start searching for Scott, the pleasant smell of food fills his nose. His eyebrows furrow slightly as he makes his way into the kitchen, but they raise right back up at the sight he’s confronted with. He finds Scott standing over the stove, frying pan with something cooking inside in front of him, among the mess of bowls on the counter.

Scott turns to look at him before he has a chance to say anything, surely having heard him come down, flashing one of his trade-marked smiles. “Morning,” he says, turning back to his pan, which Stiles can see now is cooking pancakes.

“Morning,” Stiles says back suspiciously, crossing his arms over his chest as he asks, “Are you making breakfast?”

“Yeah.” Scott says excitedly, tranferring the pancakes onto a plate, “I went food shopping. Sit, it’s almost ready.”

Stiles does as he’s told, albeit still a bit confused. Stiles’ never seen Scott cook, even back at their first apartment before they started ordering out or picking up food almost everyday. Stiles cooked for the most part then, having learned from many nights home alone when he was a kid, though they mostly ate ramen and pizza rolls. And they haven’t eaten breakfast together, at a table, since... well, Stiles doesn’t even know when. So all of this feels a little odd. 

Scott doesn’t seem to think so, though, as he brings over the plate of pancakes along with bacon and fruit that he must’ve prepared when Stiles was still asleep. He puts a plate and a mug of coffee in front of Stiles, before saying, “Eat,” while flashing another grin and sitting across from him.

The confusion doesn’t leave him as he takes a pancake from across the table. As he stuffs a piece of it into his mouth, he must not drop the suspicion in his face because Scott tilts his head slightly and shoots him a questioning look. “You’re acting very chipper today, even for you,” he says, then narrows his eyes and asks, “What made you do all this?”

Scott shrugs, but answers casually, “It’s our first official day living here. I wanted it to be special.”

Stiles nods slightly, taking a bite of his bacon. Of course he wanted this to be special, that’s the kind of person Scott is, has always been. He really wants to make this work, this place, this ‘fresh start’. Stiles just isn’t as optimistic. 

“Oh, that reminds me,” Scott says suddenly, “I think we should go to that town fair that Parrish was telling us about yesterday.” Stiles makes a face at that, but Scott quickly flashes him his big, puppy eyes and says, “Come on, it will be fun. I want to be involved with this town, meet some new people, make friends. I want things to be different than before.”

Stiles finds himself wanting to object, but can’t think of any arguments. They stayed close to themselves back with Theo, a small pack of three. They knew other people, but none were particularly great or moral people, and Stiles wouldn’t really consider any of them friends. Stiles lets out a sigh, and says, “Fine. But don’t expect too much from me.”

Scott smiles again, saying, “I really think it’ll be fun.”

Stiles shoots a weak grin back, but it fades pretty quickly. Despite agreeing to this whole new beginning thing, he doesn’t know how well he’ll adjust to this place. He’s not sure if it’s possible for them to just start over, after everything. Stiles’ got a feeling that they’ll find out the answer to that pretty quickly. For now, though, it seems like he’s stuck going to some town fair that he has zero interest in, especially if Parrish and Hale will be there. Hale didn’t seem to warm up to them very well and Parrish was just... something was off about his ‘kindness’, Stiles just can’t figure out what. Not like he can even mention it to Scott, he’ll just be accused of being paranoid yet again. 

But if Scott wants to play house, eating homecooked meals together and going to town events, Stiles will go along. That’s what he’s always done for Scott, why should now be any different?

 

The town is fairly far from their new house, a small place with small, brick buildings spanning over only a few streets, hidden in the middle of nowhere. It’s the kind of place where Stiles would imagine everyone knows each other by name, where nothing has changed in years. The streets are nearly empty as they drive the jeep through, Stiles behind the wheel and Scott in the passangers seat, looking out the window, looking over the town. He’s wearing that denim jacket he loves so much, due to the cold weather probably, and Stiles has on a thick hoodie that probably won’t do much good if it gets any chillier.

Stiles shifts anxiously in his seat, looking back at the narrow road instead. There’s something about the complete desolation of this place that gives Stiles a terrible feeling in his gut. He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he hardly notices Scott has turned from the window to look at him until he says, “It’s nice, right?” He glances back at the town outside of the window, “It’s so cozy.”

“Sure,” Stiles says, turning the corner to reveal another street full of small buildings and a church standing tall at the very end, “if you forget that it’s almost an hour away from the house and in the middle of nowhere.”

Stiles catches Scott’s frown out of the corner of his eye and it makes him regret his words slightly. He’s been trying to be optimistic up until now, at least pretending to be for Scott’s sake, but it’s slowly starting to settle in that this is actually what they’re doing, that this is actually where they _live_ now.

“Do you really hate this place that much?” Scott asks, tilting his head to the side slightly, that familar, hurt-puppy look tugging on his features. 

Stiles sighs. “I don’t know,” he admits, “It’s so _different_ here,” he taps his fingers onto the steering wheel, “And this whole ‘being involved’ thing, how long is that gonna last?” He shoots him an incredulous look, “It just... it feels like we’re pretending to be normal.”

Scott sighs as well, sounding almost frustrated as he glances away, seeming to take in what he just said as well as compose his thoughts. When he finally speaks, he turns back and says, “We can be normal, Stiles. Things don’t have to be like they were,” he gives him a look that’s hard to discern, “Why are you being so negative?”

“Why am I- because, Scott, do you realize how insane this is?” Stiles snaps slightly, turning away from the road to shoot Scott a look, “We live in a rundown house in the middle of a fucking field, miles away from any civilization. How can you possibly not see the negative in that?”

“We had to get away,” Scott says, voice full of comcern and frustration, but he purposefully doesn’t mention _who_ they had to get away from. Stiles huffs out a breath.

“Jesus, do you really think Theo can’t find us?” He asks, not able to stop himself from getting everything off his chest, and notices the way Scott tenses, so he continues, “Just because we don’t talk about him doesn’t mean he doesn’t exist. Do you honestly think he won’t show up here?”

“It’s like you want to go back to him,” Scott accuses and Stiles’ body goes cold. He quickly swallows and turns back to the road.

“I’m being _realistic_ , Scott,” Stiles snaps back, heat growing in his voice, avoiding actually answering the accusation (he has no idea what the answer would even be), “I can’t just pretend everything’s great and that this is all gonna magically work out.”

Stiles turns the car into a dirt lot filled with other cars, a big sign declaring ‘County Fair’ only a couple feet away from them. As he shuts off the engine, Scott says, “If you thought this was such a terrible idea why did you even come with me?”

Stiles opens his mouth to argue, but closes it almost immediately. A ping of hurt fills his chest. Would Scott have really left without him? He swallows his hurt, looking down, pointedly away from Scott. Scott lets out a breath, after a moment of tense silence admitting, “I _know_ that Theo might find us,” his voice is slightly softer than before, “But we have to make this work, Stiles. _Both_ of us.” He says it in an accusatory way, like the only reason this isn’t working is because Stiles isn’t on board, which does little to ease Stiles’ growing frustration. After another sigh, Scott adds defeatedly, “I’m gonna try to enjoy myself, you should too,” before leaving the car, shutting it with a little too much force behind him.

Stiles stares at him through the window for a long moment, eyes a bit wide and undoubtedly a hurt look on his face. He almost wants to stay in the car, maybe even drive away. But he has no idea where he could even go. With a deep breath, he leaves the car and follows after Scott.

 

The smell of fried foods and crisp, cold air fill Stiles’ nose as he follows Scott from the parking lot, a few steps behind. The actual fairgrounds are decent sized, full of typical carnival activities, food stands and even a small ferris wheel that Stiles can barely make out past the rest of the festivities. The whole thing is surrounded by a pretty dense forest by the looks of it. There are people milling around, though it’s by no means crowded. He and Scott and keep getting the odd glance, like they stand out here and don’t really belong, and it makes Stiles think his suspicions about the small town were mostly spot on.

The stares do nothing to make the situation better, in fact they only serve to make Stiles hunch into himself a little bit, feeling uncomfortable and squirmy. It doesn’t seem to faze Scott at all, though, as he walks confidently, looking around the place with a happy smile on his face, and Stiles almost wishes it _did_. He wishes Scott wasn’t so damn perfect and sure of himself all the time, so he’d understand how Stiles feels.

That’s something that changed after Scott was bitten. He used to be a nerdy kid with floppy, overgrown hair and asthma, a complete social outcast. Stiles always felt like they were on the same level. But then when Scott suddenly got super-humanly strong and fast and all of these other incredible abilities, Stiles felt like he was left coughing in his dust.

Stiles takes in an anxious breath, stuffing his hands into his pockets as they stop and Scott takes a clear look around at their surroundings. “I’m gonna get a drink,” Stiles says to him, feeling like he wants to climb out of his skin. He doesn’t even wait for Scott to acknowledge what he said before slipping away and walking over to food stand over in the corner, far away from any people.

He gets a coffee in the hope of it relieving the growing dread in his gut, but it doesn’t do much but help warm him up in the cold weather. After a minute he turns back to the rest of the fair and searches the small crowds. He spots Scott happily talking to some people, two of which, under further investigation, are officer Hale and Parrish, along with a couple others that Stiles doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know why it makes him angry, exactly, but his hand tightens on the styrofoam cup and his teeth clench together. Maybe it’s because he’s still thinking about their conversation in the car. Or maybe he’s just jealous that Scott can make friends so easily, always makes a great impression on everyone he meets. He could replace Stiles so easily, couldn’t he? He wants a fresh start, doesn’t he?

Stiles legs are moving before he knows where he’s going, but he opts for the woods surrounding the fair, wanting to be alone. He drops the cup somewhere along the way, spilling the beige liquid all over the grass-patched dirt. As he stomps through the shadow-covered forest, breaking twigs as he goes, moving deeper and deeper in any direction, he huffs out a frustrated breath. 

He doesn’t know what the hell is wrong with him. He should be happy they’re away from Theo, right? Theo’s a terrible person, he’s manipulative and controlling and terrifyingly cunning. He lied his way into having them as his pack and treated them like they were _his_. He’s a monster in every sense of the word, Scott is completely right that they had to get away, nothing about how they were living was at all healthy. Yet, _yet_ , all he can think about is how terrible of an idea this was and that it can only end in disaster. That they would’ve been better off staying there then trying to start over here. That maybe Stiles doesn’t think he deserves to start over. That if Scott had just listened to him about Theo from the start they wouldn’t even be in this fucking situation.

Stiles stops after a while of walking and runs his hands through his hair. He’s not sure how long he was walking for, too caught up in his thoughts to notice. He rests against a tree and takes a few deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. He urges himself to relax, but his hands don’t stop shaking and a shiver runs up his spine.

“What’re you doing out here?”

He jumps violently, eyes darting open as he quickly turns to the source of the question. Standing ten feet away is Parrish, familiar phony smile on his face and hands on his belt, looking Stiles over with an amused expression. “Jesus fucking...” Stiles blurts, putting a hand over his racing heart. But the reveal of Parrish doesn’t exactly put him less on edge, just adds confusion to the mix.

“What’re you doing out here, all alone?” Parrish repeats, taking a step closer, adding, “Why aren’t you at the fair with Scott?”

Stiles swallows thickly, crossing his arms over himself to fight against the cold and also to hide himself. “I needed a minute,” he answers, looking over Parrish concernedly, hoping he doesn’t question the lie further.

“A minute?” Parrish repeats, then he lets out a small, soft laugh, “Well, I hope you don’t mind if I join you, I could use some alone time too.” He ends with another bright smile.

Stiles doesn’t answer, just narrows his eyes at him and draws further into himself, unconciously shifting away from the officer. Did he follow him out here? “How are you liking your new house so far?” Parrish asks, either not noticing Stiles’ suspicion or not caring.

Stiles shifts on his feet, shrugging his shoulders. “It wasn’t really my idea,” He says simply, not caring enough to hide the distaste in his voice.

“Scott’s?” Parrish asks, smile growing slightly. He huffs out a chuckle, saying, “He seems nice.” His eyes flick down to look over Stiles’ body before moving back to his face, “You two seem to get along pretty well.” 

Stiles’ arms tighten around his chest, not liking the implication. He doesn’t get a chance to respond, as Parrish takes another step closer and continues, “We don’t get many new people around here,” his eyes start drifting again, “We’re a close knit town. It can get pretty...” another step towards him, “ _lonely_.”

Stiles swallows his spit and quickly says, “I should go find Scott, he’s probably looking for me.” He eyes Parrish cautiously as he attempts to move past him. He’s stopped in his tracks when Parrish takes a step to block his path.

“There are some things you still need to know about our town,” Parrish explains softly. Stiles grits his teeth as he looks up at the slightly taller man, “I can teach you how it works,” he lifts his fingers and they brush the bottom to Stiles’ chin, making him look up so Parrish can look over his neck.

Stiles pulls his face violently away, pushing hard at Parrish’s shoulders. Parrish barely reacts, face remaining calm. “Get the hell out of my way,” Stiles bites out, attempting to move past him only to get blocked again, this time Parrish stepping even closer, invading what little space he had. Stiles takes a step backwards, heart hammering in his chest.

The moment Parrish makes a move to grab him, Stiles is turning the other way and sprinting as fast as he can. He doesn’t make it very far before arms are reaching around his middle in a vice-like grip and lifting him off the ground slightly. “Get off of me, get the fuck off of me!” He yells as he aggressively struggles, trying his hardest to kick Parrish. Before he gets the chance he’s being slammed to the ground, face hitting the cold dirt.

“Scott! Sco-“ he attempts to call before a hand is covering his mouth. He’s not even sure Scott would be able to hear him this far into the woods. He tries to get up but is Parrish’s other hand is pushing his body down, trapping him om the ground.

“Relax,” Parrish says to him, voice distant and still relatively calm, like he’s done this before. It makes Stiles buck harder, but this only makes Parrish replace his hand with his knee. Stiles gasps for breath at the sudden increase of pressure, ribs digging painfully into the hard forest floor. His hands claw at the dirt in a desperate attempt to crawl away. Parrish releases his mouth and grabs one of his arms, twisting it behind his back.

Stiles sucks in a few hopeless, quick breaths. The sound of a belt buckle being undone behind him forces him to focus on anything other than the lack of oxygen, making him buck again, though it doesn’t do much good. “Stop, I can’t- I can’t breath-“ his voice is ragged and forced.

“Don’t struggle.” Parrish warns gently, as the sound of the buckle stops. A hand gropes at Stiles’ pants. “See, here, everyone belongs to someone,” Stiles bucks as hard as he can, but it does nothing, “That’s how we work.”

“Don’t, get off, stop-“ Stiles repeats breathlessly, vision dancing with black spots. Parrish doesn’t listen to his pleas as he pushes Stiles’ pants down along with his underwear. He hardly gets anytime to brace himself before Parrish pushes himself in and he’s crying out, entire body tensing in complete pain. 

He nearly blacks out until Parrish’s knee lets up enough to allow him to breath. He rapidly sucks in as much oxygen as he can. But Parrish only let up in order to reach into his belt and pull out handcuffs, Stiles can hear their jingle close to his ear. He tries to move his arms but Parrish manages to get the one trapped behind his back, tightening the cuff painfully around his wrist. “Fuck,” Parrish mutters frustratedly when he can’t get Stiles’ other arm in his struggle. He lets up a little bit more and pulls out.

Stiles ignore his pain, hyperfocusing on not letting himself be restrained, he knows that after that it’ll be impossible to get away. His eyes search his immediate surroundings and he locks in on a big rock sitting amidst some fallen leaves. He reaches towards while Parrish distracted. He manages to reach it and turn his body just enough to whack Parrish in the face with all the strength he can muster.

It turns out to be enough as he knocks Parrish on the ground, allowing Stiles to scurry away, pulling his pants up and breathing in rapidly. He holds the rock tightly in his hand, clutching it to his chest as he watches Parrish uneasily, counting the second in his head. He stirs after a second 16, head lifting off the ground slightly.

It’s like someone else takes over as Stiles’ white-knuckled grip on the rock gets impossibly tighter. He stands on shaky feet and moves towards the half-conscious officer. He stares down at him for a few long moments. 

_Do it_.

He doesn’t know why the voice sounds like Theo’s.

He slams the rock into the back of Parrish’s head, cuff still hanging off one of his wrists. The hit knocks him back down, surely knocking him out completely this time. But he doesn’t stop. He keeps hitting him, over and over, until his hands are covered in blood and the once grey rock is a dark, gooey crimson. He lets out a ragged breath as he drops it and takes a step backwards, eyes darting around the now lifeless body beneath him.

He hears a flock of birds squawking in the distant trees, but it sounds like a whisper. “Fuck..” he mutters to himself, pain coming back all at once and realization filling his chest like an icy disease. What the fuck has he done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please please PLEASE let me know what you guys are thinking of this in the comments! 
> 
> Tell me where you want this to go and any suggestions for the next chapters!


	3. Now What?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry these take a long time to get out, I hope no one’s lost interest! I’m just trying to make each chapter perfect :)  
> Leave a comment if you liked this!

Stiles doesn’t know when the birds stopped yelling from the trees above him, he just suddenly realizes how eerily quiet the forest is. It doesn’t match the violent, bloody scene ten feet in front of him. He’s also not sure how long he’s been standing here, staring at it and then glancing at his bloody hands every few moments, as if to confirm he’s really the one who did it. The only thing that snaps him out of his dazed state is his physical pain hitting him like a ton of fucking bricks.

He winces and shifts, trying to ease the pain a bit, but it’s useless, so he sits on the ground, leaning against a tree. He wipes his face with his hand and is surprised when it comes back wet. He tries to take a deep breath but his chest feels tight, his breathing strained from his hurt ribcage that was pushed into the ground. His lower half hurts like hell, but he’s trying not to think about that. It’s not like this kind of pain is anything new. He spent a year and a half living with two sexually active werewolves, accidental bruising and roughness were bound to happen. But _this_ , this feels different. This is the kind of pain that curls into the pit of your stomach and makes you feel sick.

That’s not the only thing making him sick however. Scott’s gonna be so upset when he finds out he did this. He’s not sure if it can even be classified as self-defense, not when he kept bashing and bashing until his skull caved in. It probably doesn’t even matter, Scott’s always been so disgusted and opposed by the prospect of killing _anybody_. He wanted this to be their new beginning, but one day in and Stiles’ already fucked it up.

Stiles swallows the feelings clogging his throat, tries to push past it, as a sudden gust of wind hits his body. He crosses his arms over his chest tightly, wishing he’d brought something heavier than his hoodie, like that’s his number one priority right now. Thankfully, though, the cold actually makes him focus. He needs to figure out what to do with the body. He momentarily thinks of going to the cops, Parrish is the one who attacked him afterall, but quickly discards that idea. They would never believe him. No, he needs to get hide the evidence, and fast. It’s not like it would be the first time. With one more glance at Parrish’s lifeless form he pulls his phone from his pocket. He searches his contacts for the name Scott. He needs to tell him about this despite how badly he’ll react. His finger stops suddenly when he sees Theo’s name.

Stiles swallows thickly, finger right above the call button. He knows he shouldn’t, he _knows_ that. Theo coming here would be an awful idea. _But_ , Theo would know how to handle this, he’s done it before, countless times. He knows how to not get caught. But that’s not the only reason he’s considering it and he knows this too. Theo won’t judge him for this. He’d understand, more than Scott would anyways. Theo’s always understood him more than Scott, maybe that’s the real reason he felt so scared of leaving.

But calling Theo would mean dealing with the consequences of bringing him back into their lives. While Theo _does_ accept this side of Stiles, maybe that’s not a good thing. Scott wasn’t wrong, Theo is a manipulative, selfish person, not having him around is most definitely for the best. Besides, Scott wanted this, and Stiles doesn’t want to go against what he wants by calling Theo right now. Not when he’s already fucked up so bad by doing _this_. 

Stiles clenches his jaw shut tight, but does scroll past Theo’s name and finds Scott’s instead. He presses call and holds the cool phone up to his colder ear, that’s when he notices the metal cuff still hanging off of his wrist and thinks about how he’ll need to get rid of that too. His leg shakes up and down nervously as he listens to the rings. It seems to take forever before he hears Scott’s voice on the other line say, “ _Hey, where’d you go? I’ve been looking around for you_.”

The innocence of the question makes Stiles curl into himself a little bit more. He has absolutely no idea. He’s still at the fair, probably having fun, wondering why Stiles is being such a buzzkill. Stiles bites down on the inside of his cheek and lets out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “I-uh-“ actually saying it is way harder than he thought it would be, “I- I need your help.”

“ _What’s wrong_?” Scott asks, voice switching to concerned almost instantly. Stiles can practically feel the chance of something rekindling between them- the sharing a bed, the breakfast- slipping away. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up anyways.

“I-“ he swallows, opting to stand instead of sit, needing to get his nerves out somehow. His body aches at the movement but he tries to turn the pain into concentration. “Something happened,” he can’t make himself say it, “I- I just need you, Scott.” He hates how desperate his shaky voice sounds to his own ears.

“ _I- okay, where are you?_ ” Scott says, and he must be able to tell Stiles’ desperation over the phone because he sounds slightly panicked now.

Stiles glances around himself. He doesn’t really know where he is, just that he’s somewhere deep into the woods, far enough away for no one to be able to hear his screams. “The woods,” he answers, “You can find me, just- just track my scent, okay?”

“ _Yeah, yeah, okay_ ,” Scott says, “ _I’m coming now, just hang tight, alright_?”

They say their hurried goodbyes and Stiles hangs up. He holds the phone to his chest for a moment and then looks down at Parrish. The blood hasn’t stopped pouring. 

 

Stiles remembers going to a fair with Scott when they were kids. It was during the Summer, a hot and sticky day, with crowds of people all shoved into one park in the heart of the city. He remembers they’d shared a bag of cotton candy, ran around together ahead of their parents, Scott almost had an asthma attack after their fourth time on the rollercoaster. But most of all he remembers how much fun that day had been. It was before Scott’s mom moved to SanFrancisco with his dad. Before they lived in their first apartment. Before he found his dad dead on his livingroom floor. Before Theo had twisted his way into their lives like a knife in a gut. It was when Stiles felt like his life resembled something normal.

He doesn’t know why he thinks about this while he’s pacing the forest with a limp in his step, waiting for Scott to find him as the sun starts to go down. Maybe he’s trying to fill his mind with good memories before the inevitable fallout that’s moments away from transpiring. Or maybe he’s trying ease this growing _wrongness_ in the pit of his stomach whenever he remembers the feeling... _stop thinking about it_ he reminds himself. That voice sounds more like himself.

He glances around at the still forest around him warily and can’t help but shiver slightly. It’s cold, but the chill isn’t the only reason. He almost feels like he’s being watched. Now he knows he’s being paranoid, but it’s hard to shake the feeling.

The quiet, distant sound of footsteps in the leaves peircing the quiet woods interupt his current, dangerous thought pattern and make Stiles’ entire body tense up. He knows it’s Scott, knows what’s about to come. He suddenly really regrets calling Scott, but he knows he couldn’t have kept this a secret, half because Scott’s a werewolf with supernatural senses and half because the hidden guilt would have eaten him alive.

“Stiles!” He hears his voice call as the steps get closer. Scott appears after a moment, looking in a rush as he spots Stiles. As he comes closer, him realizing what’s happened is pretty much a blur. He looks in between him and the body several times, eyes wide and mouth open slightly. And all Stiles does is stand there, shoulders slumped, feeling like a kid who’s just been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

He tunes back in when Scott is saying, “What the hell happened, Stiles?!” His voice is frantic, panicked. He looks back down at Parrish and swallows hard before looking to Stiles for an answer. “Why did you-“ that look of hurt confusion on his face is exactly why Stiles didn’t want to call.

“He-“ his voice hitches and he forces himself to stop, take a deep breath. He starts over, voice steadier this time, “He followed me out here and- and attacked me,” he looks at Scott with undoubtedly wide eyes, begging him to believe him, to tell him that this was okay, that he hasn’t fucked everything up. It never comes. He knows it wouldn’t be true anyways.

Scott’s face actually does soften slightly. He takes a cautious step forward and looks Stiles over, probably assessing him for damage. “What happened?” He asks, thankfully less panicked this time, but still deeply concerned.

Stiles shifts on his feet uncomfortably. “He started talking to me and was saying-“ he shakes his head, goes on, “then he just grabbed me and pinned me to the floor...“ his throat feels suddenly dry. He takes a breath and quickly finishes, “So I- I hit him in the head,” he can’t say the exact reason why he doesn’t tell Scott about _everything_ that happened, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, and if he hasn’t smelled it on him by now, he’ll never know about that part. Also Stiles isn’t sure he’s up for the discussion that would surely follow telling him.

Scott’s features go softer at that, but he still looks down at the body with a frown. “Did- did you have to kill him? Like _this_?” He glances at the state of the back of Parrish’s head, the way it caves in.

 _No_. No, he probably could’ve hit him over the head once, knocked him out, ran to get help, something along those lines. You know, something a normal person would’ve done. But no, he needed to kill him. Like killing him would make what just happened any better. _Stop thinking about it_.

Stiles looks down, catches another glimpse of Parrish in the leaves. “I didn’t know what else to do.” He pleads quietly. He looks up at Scott cautiously. He wonders if this will be it, if this is the final straw, if Scott will just give up on him right here and now. 

Apparently not, because he lets out a small breath and takes a step closer. He reaches out a gentle hand and runs his fingers over the top of Stiles’ forehead. It stings slightly, Stiles hadn’t realized he had a bruise there. He leans into Scott’s touch without thinking. Scott gives his forehead one more concerned look before pulling his hand away and glancing down at Stiles’ wrist. Stiles does as well and remembers that there’s a cuff still attached to it. Scott wastes no time, reaching down and snapping the metal in his hands, letting the pieces fall to the ground with a thud.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Scott asks. All Stiles does is shake his head in way of answer. If he said anything he’s sure Scott would hear the stutter of his heartbeat.

Scott nods as well, giving him a final once over before sighing slightly. He looks back at Parrish and says, “We should- we should call someone,” Stiles’ eyes widen, “I can get Deputy Hale or we can call 911, we need to tell someone about this.”

“Wh- Scott, no,” Stiles says intently, heart beat rising at the suggestion.

Scott’s brows lift. “He attacked you, it was self defense.”

“It-“ Stiles swallows thickly. He starts pacing, every movement causing pain that he can hardly feel. “We can’t call anybody, Scott. They wouldn’t believe us, he’s a cop. And- and there’s something fucking wrong with this town,” the words _everyone belongs to someone_ ring through his head, “Just- we have to just get rid of it.”

“Get rid of it?” Scott looks a little disgusted by the thought, unpleasant memories of their time with Theo no doubt flashing through his mind. “Stiles...”

“Please, Scott, we _have_ to,” he stops his pacing and looks intensely into Scott’s eyes. 

Scott looks back and then lets out a sigh. “What are we supposed to do with him?” He surrenders reluctantly. Stiles wishes he could take it as a victory, but it somehow makes him feel worse.

 

Knowing how to dispose of a dead body is not a skill Stiles ever thought he’d possess. He’d gone on research sprees at 3am about serial killers when he was a teenager, morbid curiosity getting the better of him (what a surprise), learned about some of their tricks, how they’d gotten rid of bodies. But knowing that and having actual experience with it are two very different things. Yet another pleasant thing Theo’s brought into their lives.

Stiles swallows, shifting against the jeep in the dark night, watching the lake in front of him begin to settle as Parrish sinks to the bottom, wrapped in an old, tattered blanket that’s been in the Jeep’s trunk for ages. They’re somewhere outside of town, deep in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees. They’d stripped him first, to make him a little harder to identify if he was found, so his uniform is sitting bloody by Stiles’ feet, and he thinks about how they’ll need to get rid of that too.

He sneaks a look over at Scott, who’s arms are crossed over his chest, face stoic. Stiles quickly glues his eyes back down. He hasn’t said anything since they got the body in the car. It’s making Stiles’ stomach churn. “Do you think police dogs will be able to make out his scent?” Stiles asks just to break the heavy, tense silence, just to hear Scott’s voice again. 

Scott glances at him then sniffs the air. “Probably not.” He responds half-heartedly, going back to looking at the lake. Stiles frowns

“...I’m sorry.” Stiles says after another moment of silence, voice quiet and meager. It’s a stark contrast to how he must look; bruises on his face and drying blood on his hands and shirt, hidden under a zipped up hoodie.

Scott sighs, finally looking at him. “It’s _okay_ ,” he says, voice gentle. “If he was attacking you, then you were right to defend yourself. I just... I wish this didn’t happen,” he looks back down regretfully, “I wanted this place to be different, you know? I didn’t want to have to do _this_ again.”

Stiles shifts again, guilt hitting him like a ton of bricks. He would rather Scott just yell at him, get angry with him. Anger is easier to deal with, that’s what Stiles deserves right now. But this? Resigned disappointment? That soft, sad voice? It’s fucking killing him.

Stiles takes in a breath and then sits on the dirt below him, leaning against the side of the car. It hurts, and he really hopes Scott can’t smell it on him. “I didn’t mean to fuck everything up,” He admits quietly, not daring to look Scott in the eyes as he says it. 

“You didn’t, Stiles.” Scott tells him, sitting down next to him, almost close enough that they’re touching shoulders, but not quite. They sit for a moment, neither saying a word. Then Scott asks, “What did you mean?” Stiles turns and cocks a brow, “When you said there was something wrong with this town. What did you mean?

Stiles scratches the back of his neck, another slight shiver running through his body. He has no idea whether or not it’s from the cold. _Everyone belongs to someone_ keeps running through his head. He swallows and answers, “He said I needed to know how this town worked before...” he watches Scott nod, looking a little confused, “It’s just- the way he said it. Like he’s done this before.” He shakes his head, not quite understanding everything either.

Scott makes a small humming sound, looking away, seeming to process what he’s just been told. “Something just doesn’t _feel_ right here.” Stiles adds.

Scott looks back at him. “Are you sure that’s not because of Theo?” Stiles tenses slightly. Scott lets out a breath, continuing, “I know you didn’t really want to leave. That’s why you stormed off today, isn’t it?”

Stiles opens his mouth but quickly closes it again. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to say. “I know why we had to leave.” He decides on, which is the truth. He does _know_. Knowing really doesn’t do too much good, though.

Scott shifts closer, saying, “It’s alright that you didn’t. You guys...” he looks like he’s trying to find the right words, “you had a different relationship than me and him had.” Stiles tilts his head, furrowing his brows, making Scott elaborate, “He treated you more like an equal. I was his _beta_. It was different.” He looks a little pained by the memory. 

Stiles looks down guiltily. As much as he’d like to argue that, Theo _did_ treat them differently. He was pretty possessive over both of them, sure, but Stiles never felt like he was being controlled by him. Theo, in a way, did respect him in that sense, actually seemed to appreciate his input. With Scott, though, all he’d have to do is flash his red eyes and Scott would back down, some weird pack dynamic Stiles never quite understood. 

“We can’t go back.” Scott says, interupting Stiles’ current train of thought. Stiles swallows hard. “We just can’t.” He sounds determined, “But we can still make this work, if we try.”

Stiles stares back at the lake. Parrish’s lifeless body has almost disapeared under the dark surface. He looks down the water to his blood stained hands. “Can we?” It’s nearly a whisper.

Scott looks like he’s about to answer, but then his head perks up, concerned look taking over his face. Stiles frowns, asking, “What? Do you hear something?”

Scott listens a second longer, then says, “There’s a car coming.”

Stiles’ eyes widen as he stands, followed quickly by Scott. He turns to look at the dirt path they’d drove down and can see the bright glow of headlights quickly approaching. Stiles curses to himself and glances back at the lake. The bodies still visible, if cops have somehow managed to find them all the way out here, they’re screwed. But he doesn’t have much time to fret because the next time he turns the car is already in sight, and it’s not a cop car.

It’s a bulky, black pickup truck, with familiar tinted windows and a small chip on the right door. Stiles’ heart is hammering in his chest and it’s suddenly the only thing he can hear. The truck comes to a stop a few feet behind the jeep and Stiles notices Scott take the slightest step backwards. The driver-side door opens and a shadowy figure steps out. He walks into the glow of the car’s headlights and Stiles can make out the smirk on his face. 

Theo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you enjoyed! Let me know where you want this to go next and if you’re liking the way it’s going so far! Please please please let me know what you want to happen, what you want to see with the characters/their dynamics, let me know! I’m not sure if people are liking this so I’d really appreciate and feedback at all! Let me know!


	4. Kerosene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone’s enjoying this so far! Seems pointless to apologize for how long these chapters take to get out at this point lol but I’m trying not to let it get TOO long in between chapters. Leave a comment if you’re liking this!

No one says anything for a few seconds at most, but it feels like time stretches on for an eternity as soon as Theo steps out of the truck. Stiles can see Scott next to him tense out of the corner of his eye. The thick silence around them is almost palpable, and all Stiles can think is that he knew this would happen. No way in hell was Theo gonna sit back and let them go. This was coming sooner or later, though, to be fair, Stiles was really thinking it would be _later_. At least he was _hoping_ it would be later.

But now he’s standing ten feet away from them, that annoyingly smug, familiar smirk on his lips. But there’s something else behind his eyes that’s hard to make out. That’s always been the problem with Theo; he’s impossible to figure out. He can have a hundred different personalities to a hundred different people. Stiles likes to think he knows the real Theo, under all the careful manipulation; but for all he knows it’s just another character. Another lie.

When Theo finally speaks it only makes the air grow thicker. “Hi,” is all he says at first, the word drenched in cockiness, like he’s just won a game Stiles wasn’t even aware he was participating in. That’s another thing with Theo, everything's always a game, always has a winner and a loser. He looks them both over, considering for a moment before he continues in that same smug voice, “Been a little while.”

When he takes a step closer to them it takes everything in Stiles not to step back. “What are you doing here?” Stiles is a little surprised that it’s Scott’s voice. He glances as Scott behind him. He’s standing in a stiff position, shoulders hard and unmoving, hands curled into fists at his sides. Stiles doesn’t have a supernatural sense of smell, but there’s no doubt that he reeks of fear right now. Especially considering Theo’s smug look at the words.

The smirk doesn’t leave his lips as he tilts his head to the side, saying with mock-innocence, “I was a little surprised to come home yesterday and find both of you gone,” his eyes move from Scott to Stiles. He can finally make out that weird look behind the smirk; anger. Or is it... hurt? His eyes pierce Stiles’ for what seems like forever, but Stiles doesn’t break the contact, despite his intense desire to. Theo continues, addressing which one of them Stiles doesn’t know, “Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

When neither of them say anything, Theo takes the oppurtunity to walk closer. Scott moves towards Stiles. Stiles can’t tell if it’s Scott’s attempt to protect him or if it’s in hopes to protect himself. Theo stops only a few feet in front of them, glances at the lake where Parrish’s body has almost completely disappeared, and then casts his eyes down at the bloodied uniform in a messy pile in the dirt. He looks back to them with raised eyebrows. “You two have obviously been busy,” he comments, seeming amused.

Stiles glances at Scott again, and his worried face has a tight frown on it. Theo stuffs his hands in his pockets, saying, “Okay. You’ve had your fun. I think it’s time to come home.”

“We’re not coming home,” Scott says, with just the slightest edge of determination to his voice.

Theo tilts his head at him, eyes widening slightly. “You know, I wasn’t really asking.” He says back, voice getting more serious. He takes another step towards them, making Scott draw towards Stiles a little bit more. Stiles can practically feel his nerves. Or maybe those are just his own.

Despite that, Scott stands a little taller as he says, “We’re not going anywhere.” He creeps forward and when Stiles gets a better look at him his eyes are glowing golden. “We came here to get a new slate, away from _you_.”

Theo lets out a chuckle that’s anything but humorous. “Oh, _really_?” He nods towards the crumpled up clothes, “Great start. Two days in and you’re getting rid of a body.”

Scott growls low in his throat, and although Stiles can’t see it, he can tell by Scott’s tight fists that his claws are digging into his palms. He’s on the brink of losing control. The growl causes Theo’s pale blue eyes to morph into a bright, menacing red back at him. Stiles thinks that might’ve been what snaps him into action as he takes a meaningful step towards Theo and says, “Leave him alone.”

Theo turns his attention on him instantly, eyes fading back to their usual shade. He looks more outwardly angry at Stiles, the somewhat cool and collected persona he was putting on fading slightly, as if Scott leaving didn’t matter as much as Stiles leaving. Stiles swallows thickly, and hates that he feels guilty. Theo doesn’t deserve guilt. He tries to hide it as Theo says, “I know this wasn’t your idea.”

Stiles clenches his jaw so hard his teeth creak. He hates how well Theo knows him. He continues anyways, “It doesn’t matter. We’re not going back with you.” He figures it’s ironic that he’s so opposed to going back with him after thinking about him constantly and nearly calling him twice in the short amount of time they’ve been gone, but he knows he has to do this. Going back with Theo is simply not an option.

Theo seems to pick up on the insincerity in his words as he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head and turning his eyes away from Stiles’. “Following him blindly again?” His eyes narrow judgmentally on Stiles and there’s a certain venom in his voice. Stiles clenches his jaw uncertainly and can feel Scott’s weary eyes behind him, but he keeps his eyes strictly on Theo’s every movement. 

Scott speaks again from behind him, “We want you out of our lives. _Both_ of us.” It’s hard to tell who exactly he’s trying to convince, they all know the truth. 

Theo’s eyes linger for a moment longer before they once again find the pile of clothes and he looks back up to say, “Well, whether I’m here or not, this has to be taken care of. Is there any other evidence?”

“It’s all there.” Stiles says, crossing his arms over his chest. If he could see Scott’s face he’d almost definitely see him avert his eyes to the ground, grimace on his face. But conversations like this are nothing new, something Scott’s had plenty of chances to be disgusted with. Scott was right, he and Theo’s relationship is different. They can talk about this stuff frankly, the dirty, gruesome details. And Theo tends not to ask questions, like right now, which Stiles hates how much he appreciates.

Theo looks him over, saying, “Good. Then we should burn this.”

“ _We_?” Scott asks, taking a step forward in front of Stiles.

“Yes, _we_ ,” Theo says, sounding calmer yet exasperated, that angry edge to his voice gone, “I know what I’m doing, remember?” His voice is taunting and it makes Scott glare at the floor, “You still need me, whether you like it or not.” His eyes find Stiles’ as he says, “We need to get rid of this quick.”

Stiles thinks about saying something, but backs down. Instead, he turns to Scott and says, “He won’t be here long. Just long enough to burn the uniform.”

Scott stares at him with wide, helpless eyes. After a moment he takes a breath and looks back down. “O-okay.” He hesitantly agrees. Stiles hates how defeated he looks.

 

The hot water pours on Stiles’ aching back as he leans against the wall with one hand. The water flowing down the drain at his bare feet runs red. Stiles shuts his eyes tight. Now that he has a moment free of immediate panic, the painful reality of what happened with Parrish is starting to truly sink in. And not the part about killing him. Stiles ghosts a hand over his bruised ribcage and tries to forget about the rest of the pain radiating throughout his body.

Stiles huffs in an unsteady breath and turns, running his fingers through his soaked hair. Once the water runs clear again he shuts the rusted tap with a loud creak. He wraps a towel around his waist and grabs his dirty, bloodied pile of clothes. He stops just short of the door, glancing in the fogged mirror instead. He reaches a hand out and wipes clean a circle to see himself. His forehead is painted with a dark purple bruise, right below his hairline. His chest is in equally bad shape. He takes in another forced breath, wincing at the pain.

He opens the door and jumps at the sight of Theo standing on the other side. He’s leaning against the cracked hallway wall, arms crossed casually over his chest, like he somehow belongs here. “Oh my god, Theo,” Stiles snaps, realizing very quickly his vulnerable condition. He shifts into himself a little bit.

“You should get rid of those.” He says calmly back, glancing at the clothes in Stiles’ hands. 

“Where’s Scott?” Stiles asks, looking Theo over suspiciously.

“Outside, getting the fire started,” Theo answers, giving Stiles the same once over. He uncrosses his arms and shifts on his feet. “You should get rid of those clothes,” he repeats.

Stiles rolls his eyes, shoving the clothes into Theo’s hands before he moves into his room. He can hear Theo follow him in as he walks over to his dresser with only half of his clothes inside, the other half in a box on the floor. When he pulls out a pair of sweatpants Theo says from his position near the door, “You’re covered in bruises.”

Stiles tenses slightly but tries to hide it. “You mind not watching me while I get dressed?” He says annoyedly, looking back to where Theo is leaning in the doorway. Theo rolls his eyes but does avert his gaze, stepping further into the room but looking towards the window near the bed. Stiles hastily pulls on a pair of boxers and his pants. It hurts, but he bites back the pain. 

“I can’t believe he actually convinced you to do this,” Theo comments in the room’s silence.

Stiles lets out an annoyed breath. “He didn’t convince me. Are you honestly surprised I would want to leave you? I have about a million reasons to.”

“You never seemed to care about them until now.” Theo replies. Stiles’ jaw tightens. “You had to have known this wouldn’t work. Did you think I would just let you go?”

Stiles opens another drawer and tries to find a shirt. No, of course not. He knew Theo would be here sooner or later. He knew he’d try to convince them to come back. “No.” He mutters, but he knows Theo can hear him well and he can almost feel the smirk on his face.

“Scott told me you killed that cop because he attacked you.” Theo comments after another quiet few moments, looking out the window momentarily, at what Stiles isn’t sure.

Stiles feels a pit in his stomach. He tries to ignore the pain, at least tries not to let it be too obvious. “Yeah.” He mutters uncaringly, trying to sound like it wasn’t a big deal. _Stop thinking about it_.

“You know, you can lie to Scott, but you can’t lie to me.” Stiles stops what he’s doing in the middle of grabbing a sweater and stares at the wall in front of him, not daring to look back at Theo. He can hear him inch closer. “I can smell what he really did to you, Stiles.” He continues, and Stiles can feel him only a few feet away.

Stiles doesn’t speak for a long minute, staring blankly ahead. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says at last, and even he can hear the lie in his voice. Once again, he finds himself hating how well Theo knows him, how he can so easily figure him out.

“Does Scott even know?” Theo asks, ignoring his denial. 

Stiles swallows. He couldn’t make himself say it. He couldn’t bring himself to see that look of hurt on his face, couldn’t be the one who caused it. He takes a breath and mutters emotionlessly, “He doesn’t need to know,” while he pulls his shirt over his body.

“Of course,” Theo scoffs, “Always protecting him. Even at your own expense.” 

“I don’t-“ Stiles turns around, about to continue when he’s confronted by Theo only inches away. Theo looks him over with suddenly soft eyes and Stiles takes a deep breath. Theo reaches out a hand and runs it over the bruise on his forehead. He says in a quiet, comforting voice, “If I’d have been there I would’ve killed him for you.”

Stiles recoils back viciously, pushing Theo’s hand away from him in the process. “Fuck off,” he snaps, taking several steps away from him. He forgets how fucking _different_ Theo and Scott are sometimes. Polar opposites, actually. Scott is everything Stiles wants to be, the light in a dark, festering pool of sin. Theo is the darkness, pulling him further and further into the abyss, what Stiles has always been afraid he’d become. Scott’s always seen the capability for good in him, while Theo has always embraced the bad. “You’re so-“ he huffs out a frustrated breath, “I didn’t need you earlier, I don’t need you now.”

Theo scoffs again, the comforting look disappearing. “What, you suddenly don’t like me?” He bites out as he steps towards him. Stiles shoots him a glare when he continues, “Because of _Scott_?” Stiles drops his gaze. Theo cocks his head, like he’s gotten the reaction he wanted, “Will you ever stop doing everything he tells you to?”

“Maybe when I stop letting you manipulate me,” Stiles responds dryly, narrowing his eyes at Theo as he starts walking towards the door.

“You know I’m right.” Theo says, grabbing his wrist to keep him in place. Stiles grunts, attempting to pull away before Theo asks, “Do you really think you both can just start over?” Stiles’ jaw tightens, “Have a normal life, after everything?” Stiles’ hand curls into a a tight fist at his side, “You can’t.”

Stiles pulls his wrist away, but keeps his eyes locked on Theo’s. Theo stares back at him then tilts his head curiously. “But you already know that, don’t you?” Stiles can feel anger rising up in his throat, suffocating him, “You’re smart. When are you gonna stop living in Scott’s fantasy and get real? You can’t be normal, Stiles, you’re too much like me-“

His words are choked off when Stiles slams him into the bedroom wall, shaking the dresser. His hands curl in Theo’s jacket uneasily, his face probably turning red. He can’t help it. He wants to scream at the top of his lungs, tell Theo he’s wrong, he’s _wrong_. But he knows it would be a lie. “Shut _up_ ,” is all he can manage. Theo laughs darkly, smirking up at Stiles, not seeming at all bothered by his current position against the wall.

“Told you,” Theo says, the same victorious voice from before. Stiles wants to smack it off his lips. “You couldn’t leave me if you wanted to. You _need_ me.”

Stiles doesn’t get a chance to say anything to that as the sound of a doorbell chimes through the empty house. His body goes cold and he releases his hold on Theo’s shirt, instead turning towards the bedroom door. “Shit...” he murmurs to himself, suddenly remembering the bloody clothes of the man he just killed that are still not burned. “It’s just one person,” Theo tells him, tilting his head to the side slightly like he’s listening to a distant heartbeat. Stiles swallows, having a pretty good hunch as to who is here, though he really hopes he’s wrong. He moves towards the door, trying not to panic too much. He can hear Theo follow behind him.

He descends the stairs quickly but approaches the front door cautiously, taking deep breaths as he does. He can see the silhouette of someone behind the door’s tinted glass. His hand lingers on the doorknob before he turns it and the door opens with a creak. He wishes he were surprised to see deputy Hale standing on the other side, fully in uniform, face stoic and barely visible with only the dull porch light to illuminate it.

“Deputy,” Stiles says in greeting, looking Hale over with eyes trying to hide concern. He crosses his arms, tries to act calm, “What brings you here?”

Hale seems to examine him for a moment before he turns his emotionless eyes over to where Theo’s standing on the stairs. “Who’s this?” He asks, voice just as low and uncaring as Stiles remembers.

Stiles shifts on his feet, looking momentarily back at Theo. “A friend.” He answers.

“Theo,” Theo adds, artificial charm that Stiles has become very familiar with turning on. He walks over to the door, stands next to Stiles and smirks at Hale. “What can we do for you officer?”

Hale clearly isn’t impressed by Theo’s demeanor, but that doesn’t stop Theo. Hale ignores him and focuses once again on Stiles, asking, “Where’s Scott?”

Stiles swallows, quickly says, “Asleep. It’s almost,” he glances at the clock hanging near the staircase, “Eleven.” He narrows his eyes again, repeats, “What are you doing here so late?”

Hale puts his hands on his belt, and finally says, “Officer Parrish hasn’t been seen since the fair earlier today, his car hasn’t left the lot in several hours.”

Stiles tries to look unaffected as he fakes a confused look. “Okay. What does that have to do with us?”

“Parrish was last seen talking to Scott and mentioning you.” Stiles taps his fingers on his arm, “I thought you two might know something,” he sounds serious, eyes staring accusingly at him.

“Well, sorry, I haven’t seen him since yesterday,” Stiles answers in his most casual voice. He uncrosses his arms and puts a hand on the door, fingers tracing the wood lightly as he says, “So, if you don’t mind we were just about to head to bed.”

Theo snakes his arm around Stiles’ waist as he smiles overly sweetly at Hale and says, “Have a good night, officer.”

Hale remains in the doorway for a second longer, scrutinizing them both. “Alright.” He says gruffly, “Good night. Let us know if you get anymore information.” All Stiles does is nod at Hale, tapping his fingers anxiously. He would almost swear Hale knew exactly what went down today if it wasn’t so impossible. Hale gives them both one more unreadable look before turning and heading back to the patrol car parked in the dirt driveway.

Stiles closes the door and lets out a sigh. He waits until he hears the car door shut close before finally relaxing. He pushes the hand that’s still firm around his waist away and starts pacing the front room, running his hands over his face.

“He knows,” Stiles says as he paces. He starts rubbing his hands together, concern making his stomach turn. He definitely knows, Stiles doesn’t know how but he knows. “He fucking knows. Jesus fucking-“

“It doesn’t matter what he knows,” Theo reassures, obviously trying to stop him from going into full blown panic-mode, “he needs evidence and he’s not gonna find any.” 

When Stiles only ignores him and continues to walk up and down the room, thinking of every little thing he did wrong and everyway this can be traced back to him, Theo grabs his arm and pulls him closer, so they’re looking at each other, “ _Stiles_ ,” Stiles swallows, “Stop panicking, you’re not stupid. You know nothing’s going to happen. Have you seen the size of this town? They’re not going to find him.” He releases Stiles’ arm and adds, “C’mon. We need to burn the uniform.” 

Stiles takes a deep breath and nods. Theo looks him over one more time before nodding back and walking towards the back door. Stiles stays back a moment, trying to compose himself. He thinks over what Theo just told him and wishes he believed any of it. There’s something _wrong_ with this town. He remembers what Parrish said, can’t stop the words from echoing over and over in his head, _everyone belongs to someone_. He said it without thought, like he’s said it a million times before. And Stiles is starting to think Hale knows those words as well.

 

The fire glows bright in the darkness, embers sparking and air smelling distinctly of kerosene. Stiles watches the clothes burn up as smoke travels towards the starless night sky. He can make out the silhouette of the house yards away and can finally see the abandoned barn he spotted yesterday up close, only feet away from them. He looks up from the fire to Scott’s face, lit up by an orange light. Theo’s a couple feet away, arms crossed as he watches the fire emotionlessly. None of them are standing near eachother, Stiles notices, but he has no desire to change that.

There’s a tenseness in the air since they let Scott know about Hale’s little visit. Theo is the first to break it as he looks up from the fire, saying, “Now that this is done,” Stiles flicks his narrowed eyes up and sees Scott do the same, “we shouldn’t stay in town very much longer.”

“There is no _we_ ,” Scott snaps, fight apparently renewed in him, “Me and Stiles are staying, and you’re leaving.”

Theo huffs out a laugh, looking at Stiles with unbelieving eyes then back to Scott again. “Are you actually serious?” He lets out another cynical laugh, “You’re seriously thinking about staying here after this?”

“We came here to get away from you, and the city, and everything _you_ made us do,” Scott says over the increasing intensity of the fire. Stiles glances down. He says it like Theo forced them to do terrible things. Stiles wishes he could believe he didn’t have a choice in any of it, wishes it were that simple. Scott continues, “You can’t make us come back.”

Theo tilts his head to the side and has another malicious leer on his face as he says, “I know both of you don’t believe that,” he fixes his attention back on Stiles with this infuriating grin. 

Scott turns to him as well, a weary look on his face and a silent plea in his eyes. Stiles looks between them, at a loss for a long moment. He finally sighs in frustration, saying, “I’m not going back,” Theo scoffs, but Stiles only continues, “Neither of us are,” he glances over at Scott, who nods, looking relieved, “And you said it yourself, there’s nothing to worry about anymore, right? We destroyed all the evidence.” Stiles doesn’t even believe his own words, but he can’t do this to Scott. If Scott wants to stay than he will too, despite wanting nothing more than to get as far away from this town as possible.

Theo laughs agains, sounding both incredibly annoyed and impressed with the use of his own words against him. He stares intensely at Stiles for a couple of seconds and once again Stiles has no idea what he’s thinking. Finally he shakes his head and says, “Fine. If both of you want to be crazy and stay, then fine. But I’m not going anywhere.”

Stiles cocks his head, eyes narrowing again. Theo goes on, “That cop isn’t going to suddenly stop asking quetions. I’m not gonna let him find out about this. You’re both still _my_ pack, like it or not.” Scott tenses, “You both _need_ me.”

“No.” Scott growls, eyes lighting up an angry golden, “No, no way-“

“Scott-“ Stiles tries.

Scott turns on him, growling, “No! There’s no way he’s staying here, he can’t-“

“Scott!” Stiles says louder, making Scott stop mid sentence and his eyes fade back to their normal dark brown. Stiles peaks a glance over at Theo, who’s only watching them both carefully, as if waiting to see what happens. Stiles focuses back on Scott, saying, “What if Hale starts asking more questions?” Scott looks down, “We-“ he sighs, hating how much Theo is about to enjoy this, “I hate to say this, but we _do_ need him.”

Scott takes in a breath, continues to stare down at the ground. The fire has started to die down, ash has started to float down like little flakes of snow. When Scott finally looks back up his face is more defeated than Stiles has ever seen it. He addresses Theo when he says, “You can sleep on the couch. But I don’t want you anywhere near us.” His voice sounds deep, like it’s coming from somewhere insdie of him, far beneath his usual up-beat demeanor, “I don’t want you to come upstairs, or leave in the middle of the night to do something terrible, or lie about what you’re doing. We’re not _anything_ , anymore. And you’re not in charge.”

Theo’s expression doesn’t change as he shrugs and says without missing a single beat, “Fine.”

Scott’s hands shift uneasily at his sides, curling and uncurling. He says nothing else before leaving, walking back up to the house without turning back. Stiles watches him until he disapears from sight. He turns back to Theo, who’s looking like he’s won again. “Come on, the fire’s going out.” He says before he starts walking back to the house as well. Stiles stares at the fire for a minute longer, watching the last remains of Parrish’s uniform turn to ash and float up into the cold night sky. He takes one last breath and turns back to the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please please PLEASE leave me a comment if you are enjoying this series and what you like about it! I need constant feedback and advice to function! If there’s something you’d like to see happen please let me know! Or if there’s something you like, tell me what it is! I really appreciate feedback of all kind!
> 
> Let me know if I should continue this or move on to something else. I really like this fic but I’m in kind of a battle with it, I’m never in the right headspace to write it. I’ll do my best, but please let me know!


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